


what will you do?

by armario



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence, getting shot in a dream, projections turning nasty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 13:53:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7510867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armario/pseuds/armario
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Arthur," the forger says. "Stay with me, precious. Come on. I don't have a gun. I can't-"</p><p>"It's okay," Arthur rasps, fingers coming away red from the wound in his chest. "I'll be okay."</p>
            </blockquote>





	what will you do?

This is where it starts to go wrong. In the beginning, it was all fun and games, till they realised the only difference between pain in a dream and in real life is that one of them isn't permanent. It doesn't make it any less excruciating.

They duck round another corner, having memorised the layout, something Cobb refuses to do. It was Eames who noticed the accusatory stares.

"The projections," he had said suddenly. 

"What?"

"They're hostile."

" _Shit_."

The first wave overwhelms them. These are nastier than normal suspicious projections, working as a mob to take them.

"Arthur!"

They manage to tear themselves away from the crowd, sprinting as fast as they can, away now with no regard for the layout.

"They know it," Arthur shouts. "The layout!"

"I thought Cobb never fucking studies them!"

There are guns now. Trained agents, on the roofs and on foot aiming weapons right at them.

"We're not gonna make this," Arthur mutters as they swing round a corner into an alley, coming to rest.

"Have a little faith, sweetheart," Eames answers, throwing him an exhausted grin. 

They're just coming out of the alley when the first shot hits Arthur. He buckles, falling to the ground with a cut off gasp. Eames is dragging him back into the safety of the alley and Arthur can dimly feel Eames shaking. 

"Arthur," the forger says. "Stay with me, precious. Come on. I don't have a gun. I can't-"

"It's okay," Arthur rasps, fingers coming away red from the wound in his chest. "I'll be okay."

"I don't want you hurt," Eames murmurs. It's pretty obvious, but he hasn't really been  _hiding_ his feelings for Arthur. He doesn't need to, the man is oblivious enough, and immune to Eames' flirting. 

"They'll find us soon. They'll shoot us." The pain is increasing, a sharp throbbing in his lungs that takes his breath away. "I can't breathe," Arthur gasps, panicking, tears spilling over his face.

They know that much, that killing ends it all quickly and painlessly but they've never yet  _had_ to do it in response to hostile projections. Dimly, Eames wonders if Cobb knew this could happen. He's going to kill him.

Eames swallows, strokes his thumb over his friend's tears, one hand curling in Arthur's.

"Arthur darling," Eames says softly and urgently, watching the other man's eyes grow glassy with tears and pain. "I can stop this. I could kill you."

"No," Arthur hisses. "They'd rip you to shreds."

"If I don't do it now, they'll rip us both to shreds."

Arthur watches him, trembling, thin sheen of sweat covering his entire body, blood soaking into his shirt. He grips Eames' hands as tightly as he can, squeezing his eyes shut for a second as another wave of agony surges through him. "What will you do?"

Eames leans close.

He can hear them getting closer. "Snap your neck," he whispers, gives an apologetic smile. 

"Fuck," Arthur says bravely, but his voice cracks. Eames has always wanted to see his unflappable composure fall apart, but not like this. Not like this, even if it is a dream.

"I don't have to," Eames tells him. "But it'll make the pain go away."

The crowd is louder now. The trained projections are surrounding them. In less than a minute, they'll be torn apart.

"Do it."

Eames takes Arthur's head gently in his hands, horribly contradictory to the violence of his next action, and kills him instantly. 

With a shuddering gasp, Arthur wakes up, layer of cold sweat still over him, a concerned Yusuf hovering nearby.

He glances at Eames, then Cobb, still under the PASIV's influence. 

Yusuf's hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

He can't bring himself to look at him. 

Cobb wakes with a start, casting about to make sure his point man is okay.

"You knew," Arthur says, accusing.

"I- you've dealt with suspicious projections before."

"Being shot at and torn limb from limb is hardly just  _suspicious,"_ and there is venom in his voice, a white knuckled grip on the chair he keeps his gaze fixated on the forger. He knows the gears in Cobb's mind are turning over this, but he can't bring himself to care. Let him think what he wants. 

"I'm sorry," Cobb says eventually, tone even but it's an impressive feat, getting him to apologise. He knows it's his fault. Knows that having projections  _that nasty_ is going to cause some real problems.

Arthur can't speak properly, won't speak, till Eames wakes. Thirty seconds, what seems like forever, goes by. 

Eames comes back up suddenly. He's panting hard, hands grip the sides of his chair. His eyes seek out Arthur and he breathes an obvious sigh of relief and nerves.

"What happened?" Cobb asks lowly. 

"I had to snap Arthur's neck," Eames answers, cheery enough but there's a nasty edge to it. 

"I couldn't stop it," Cobb says. "I'm sorry."

Later, Arthur catches Eames' arm. "Are you alright?" he asks, lets something other than annoyance seep into his tone: real _concern_.

Eames gives him a half smile, almost sad. "It was hard. Doing that to you."

"It wasn't real."

"It fucking _felt_  real," Eames snaps. "Watching you crying because you were in so much pain.  _Killing_ you. Getting ripped to shreds. Not a quick way to die, especially watching your corpse."

"I'm sorry," Arthur says, horrified. 

Eames sighs. "It's alright. It's alright. I just hate to see you hurt."

It's true. More than a few months now, of working with the point man, of sharing dreams with him- he doesn't know how Arthur feels, no one does, but there's a bond now that he loves, and fears also. Eames is used to physical attraction, but this goes deeper, and if he admits it, he cares for Arthur more than a business colleague might. 

Arthur tilts his head. "Do you... do you..."

Eames' mouth twitches in an almost smile. 

"Do you want to come back with me," Arthur says, setting his jaw, trying not to cast his eyes down stubbornly as soon as he's garbled it out. It's not really a question, but Eames couldn't refuse anyway.

He seems to have a delayed reaction, as a few seconds after his neutral stare, he breaks out into a huge grin and actually _lifts Arthur up_  into a _hug_.

"Thought you would never ask, darling," he murmurs, but it's more heartfelt than cocky. 

Arthur wraps his arms round his neck and takes in Eames' scent, breathing deeply the comfort.

"Kiss me," Arthur whispers.

Eames kisses him.


End file.
